"Mai... how nice to... see you..." he fumbled awkwardly. She sidled up next to him and slung one arm around his shoulders. His gaze wandered aimlessly as she nuzzled his neck.
"C'mon, Zuzu," she cooed, a vein throbbing in the back of Zuko's head. "I made us a picnic." She looped her arm in his and dragged him out to the courtyard by the turtleduck pond. Zuko strained to keep up small talk and endure Mai's intrusions on his personal space. He never asked to be set up with his sister's best friend - the mere idea was embarrassing to him - but he was painfully aware that he was in no position to defy Azula, or his father, if he wanted to retain their trust and restore his place in line for the throne. Putting up with Mai's giggling and smooching and groping was a small price to pay.
Zuko changed his mind about all that after Mai had French-braided his hair for the seventh time that week. He decided he stood to lose a lot more in terms of dignity and self-respect if he stayed with her, to say nothing of his quickly eroding sanity. He slipped a note under Mai's bedroom door (Azula insisted that Mai be given a room in the palace so as not to separate "the happy couple"), asking her to meet him in the courtyard at midnight. He was sure she would think the setting was terribly romantic, he mused, rolling his eyes. Back in his own room, he slipped into a familiar black jumpsuit and opera mask...
Mai tittered to herself and fidgeted nervously as she waited under the large tree next to the pond. Zuko crept towards her in the darkness, positioning himself behind her. When he was inches away, he unsheathed his swords as Mai turned towards the sound. Facing her, he plunged one blade into her stomach, running straight through her abdomen. Her mouth hung open noiselessly as blood dripped from the tip of his blade to a small puddle forming on the ground. She peered up at him, her eyes wide with confusion and terror. Drawing the sword out, he stood back and pulled the mask up over his face.
"Hello, Mai," he smirked. She dropped to her knees, clutching her stomach and uttering a series of unintelligible squeaks and whines. "Surprised? You should be. After all, if you knew ANYTHING about me, you would have seen this coming a mile away. Of course, if you knew anything about me, things probably wouldn't have ended up like this." The smirk was replaced by a fierce scowl as he brought his sword down and ran her through again, impaling the hand she was using to hold herself together. Her eyes filled with tears as she collapsed onto the grass. Dropping to his knees beside her, he brought his face inches away from hers.
"I was never yours, Mai. I don't belong to you. I don't belong to ANYONE!" He punctuated this statement by twisting the blade in her stomach. She tried to scream but her voice had long since left her. He let her writhe on the grass for a few moments before finally plunging his other blade into her heart. Her body went limp, and her eyes stared blankly at the heavens. Withdrawing the blades and repositioning them in his hands, he began the task of disposing of her body.
As the sun rose the next morning, a messenger gently knocked on Zuko's chamber door. Lifting his head from the pillow, he pushed himself off of his bed and shuffled over to the door.
"Fire Lord Ozai requests your presence, young master," the page informed him through the heavy oak doors. Zuko wondered if anyone had noticed Mai's absence yet. He rubbed his eyes and made his way to the throne room. As he kneeled in front of his father, he heard a clank behind him, and realized he had fallen asleep in his jumpsuit, his swords still strapped to his back. His heart leapt to his throat, but Ozai did not blink.
"Zuko, it's time I informed you of your place in line for the throne," Ozai said. Zuko looked at him hopefully. "That is to say, you have none." The world ground to a halt inside Zuko's head as he attempted to process what he had just heard.
"What?" was all he managed to utter.
"You are not the successor to the throne, and you never will be," Ozai stated matter-of-factly. "I'm bequeathing the crown to Azula, and to her children and grandchildren after that. You have always been a disgrace to this family, Zuko, and as Fire Lord you would disgrace the entire country."
"But Father--"
"You know, I never liked you, Zuko. Surely you had to know this. Not only were you lucky to be born, you were lucky to be conceived. You are without a doubt the most miserable excuse for a human being I can possibly imagine. Your continued existence is a miracle in and of itself. I despise you, and I would personally prefer it if you wandered off into the jungle and were never heard from again."
Zuko stared at his father, slack-jawed, trying somehow to keep from hearing the litany of insults that had been heaped upon him. Sitting back on his feet, he heard the swords scrape against the tile again. His expression darkened, and he reached back and unsheathed the swords. Ozai frowned, wondering what Zuko could possibly be thinking. Zuko stood, still staring at the tile, then snapped his head up and hurled one of his blades towards the throne. It skewered the Fire Lord through the throat, knocking him back and pinning him to the floor. Zuko charged the dais, screaming, and jammed the other blade into Ozai's skull, right between his eyes. The Fire Lord's hand, reaching up in a feeble attempt to stop the attack, dropped to the floor, dissipating the ball of flame gathered in his palm.
Gazing at his father's body, Zuko realized he now had nothing left to lose. Bracing one foot against his face, Zuko pulled the swords from Ozai's head and neck, and left the body on the dais. He stormed out of the throne room and stalked the halls of the palace, deftly cutting down servants and guards in his path. He kicked open the doors to Azula's room and stabbed her through one foot, pinning her to the floor. As she wobbled forward trying to regain her balance, he skewered her hand and pinned it next to her foot.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, ZUKO?!" Azula shrieked, genuinely terrified. Zuko smiled and placed his hands on either side of Azula's face. Then, without a word, he swiftly twisted her head and snapped her neck. He pulled his swords from the floor and continued through the palace. Zuko smiled to himself, appreciating the irony of some of the best firebenders in the country being cut down by his simple steel swords. He was beginning to grow fond of the sight of blood spilling across the floor, and decided that maybe his firebending shortcomings were pointing him towards another talent...